


Never Find My Grave

by sakurakyouko



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Gen, Ghost Heather Chandler, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 08:26:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16404833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakurakyouko/pseuds/sakurakyouko
Summary: Heather Chandler had been dead for years, but Veronica had never been forced to adjust to the loss as everyone else in Sherwood, Ohio had.





	Never Find My Grave

**Author's Note:**

> seasonally appropriate prompt fill. originally [posted on tumblr](http://heathercubedfic.tumblr.com/post/150294021367/), reposted here with edits like a year later oops
> 
> title is from the song "come away death," which is from the play "twelfth night"
> 
> warnings: major character death and implied/referenced sexual harassment. if the latter is a concern for you, skip the paragraph starting with "typically". kurt and ram are referenced but do not speak

The guilt was almost suffocating sometimes. Veronica alone had to live with the knowledge that she killed her best friend. She had no one to turn to; there was absolutely no one to confide in, unless she felt like confessing and finishing out her lit degree behind bars. (She didn’t. She’d seen Orange is the New Black, and getting strip-searched was not on her bucket list.)

Everyone else who knew her secret were dead. Kurt, Ram, and Heather lived on as ghosts, or twisted manifestations of her guilt conjured up by her psyche or whatever. It had been two years and Veronica still couldn’t tell which one they were. She never did like psychology.

Typically, Kurt and Ram were obnoxious more than anything. They wolf-whistled at her whenever she changed clothes. Sometimes they would catcall girls who couldn’t hear them. Still, though, part of Veronica felt it was her fault they never matured. They were stuck at seventeen forever, frozen in time by bullets she and her evil (dead, not haunting her) ex-boyfriend fired.

Heather, on the other hand...

“Veronica,” Heather had said one day, a perfectly manicured hand turning the brunette’s chin up to face her. Veronica tried to tear her head away, back to her textbook, but Heather wouldn’t let her. “Nah ah, not so fast. Do you even know why I’m here, Veronica?”

“Uh, because I killed you?”

“No shit, Sherlock.” Heather rolled her eyes, blue like drain cleaner. “Whatever. I mean I’m here to make your life a living hell, until you buy the farm and head off to the real deal. And I can’t do that if you’re ignoring me. Capiche?”

“I do have a life outside of being your punching bag, Heather,” Veronica replied glumly, gaze cast aside. “I gotta study for my exam. Come haunt me later or something? You’re dead, it’s not like your calendar’s booked.”

Heather appeared offended by the comment, but recovered flawlessly. “Well, gee, whose fault is that?” The blonde brought a hand up to her own chin, pretending to ponder the question for a moment. Her hand dropped lazily to her side. “Oh, yeah. It’s yours. Thanks a lot, asshole! I’m sipping on drano for eternity!”

“Lick it up, baby,” Veronica replied listlessly, “lick it up.” At that point, she had managed to slip in her earbuds and tune out the rest of the ghost’s lecture, returning to her test preparations with ease. Heather’s face visibly dropped and she faded away.

It wasn’t that Veronica didn’t feel _guilty_ about Heather’s death, because God knows she did, but it was rather that Heather behaved the way she always had in life. Kurt and Ram clearly recognized their murders as an end. When they weren’t trying to rile Veronica up, she noticed the expressions on their faces. They were bitter. They were sad. Veronica knew deep down that their annoying behavior was something-- maybe the _only_ thing-- to fill their endless days. So she tolerated it.

Heather just seemed to see her death as a continuation of her life. A sequel to her rule at Westerberg, even. First the high school; next, Veronica’s dorm room.

After that altercation, Heather’s appearances became scarcer and scarcer until eventually, she didn’t show up at all. Many times Veronica had dreamed of finally being free of her guilt, but the absence unnerved her. It _scared_ her.

Heather Chandler had been dead for years, but Veronica had never been forced to adjust to the loss as everyone else in Sherwood, Ohio had. Heather had always been around, even if only as a specter in the corner of her eye. Her presence, her constancy, had been comforting in a strange way. Since Heather viewed her death and afterlife the way she did, Veronica couldn’t help but feel the same. Kurt and Ram existed to guilt her, and Heather existed to... help her cope?

Veronica herself was surprised by the thought, but it didn’t strike her as overtly wrong. Now that she considered it seriously, Heather undeniably acted as a protector. She whisked the jocks away whenever they got too rowdy. She made jokes about her own demise. Fuck, even her self-declared mission to make Veronica’s life _hell_ was a joke in itself. That was why she had looked so offended when Veronica took it seriously.

That was why she’d gone away.

Veronica pressed her hands to her temples and took a deep breath, the gravity of loss finally sinking in. 

Her best friend was really gone this time.

**Author's Note:**

> the way veronica talks about kurt and ram's harassment is not me, the author, excusing their bad behavior. she's rationalizing it in the context of her guilt


End file.
